I grew up right outside of Galveston, Texas, which has a certain appeal as a tourist destination for people in Texas and some of the land-locked states nearby. My cousin lived much of her adolescence near Pensacola, Florida, an even bigger Gulf of Mexico tourist destination, especially for those of the spring-breaking variety.

In our youthful insecurity, we found ourselves commiserating over having to share our space with these “others.” We would say these words without even thinking about what they said about us, “I hate tourists.”

So at 16, when I found myself on a road trip with my parents to Colorado Springs, Colo., my sister and I tried hard not to look like tourists. We mumbled and groaned, disgusted at all the billboards inviting us to all these big tourist spots, nicknaming the town “Commercial Colorado” and spitting as we said it.

Despite our cliche teenage attitudes, we enjoyed visiting Pike’s Peak and Seven Falls and some of the other tourist destinations. We learned a little history, geography and geology, and our lives are richer for it.

Many years later I moved away and became more of a capitalist. I started to see that tourism was good for the economy, and I enjoyed seeing the cruise lines bringing ever more tourism opportunities to Galveston.

So I went back home and visited a girlfriend who had stayed behind. I told her my thoughts about the economic opportunity, and I had to laugh when the words came out of her mouth, “I hate tourists.”